


the men inside the trojan horse were not men but memories, and she wanted nothing more than to escape

by artsyspikedhair



Category: Girl Meets World
Genre: Ableism, Background Femslash, Canon Autistic Character, Childhood Trauma, F/M, Misogyny, Parent/Child Incest, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Smackle-centric, Stimming, corrective rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-10
Updated: 2016-08-10
Packaged: 2018-08-07 19:32:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7726963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artsyspikedhair/pseuds/artsyspikedhair
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Isadora Smackle is a brave and fiercely loyal autistic girl. But her friends noticed some odd reactions she had to certain instances. And then all hell breaks loose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the men inside the trojan horse were not men but memories, and she wanted nothing more than to escape

Farkle noticed it first. He usually was a quiet observer, but he genuinely cared about Smackle more than he did his other friends, being that she's his girlfriend. So when he touches her lightly on the shoulder while they're talking, and she flinched, he noticed.

"Smackle, are you okay?" 

Immediately she straightened, and to the unobservant eye, seemed completely emotionless. "Yeah, I'm fine. W-why?" 

But Farkle was not the unobservant person. He was Smackle's boyfriend, and more than that, he was her friend. He knew she often seemed emotionless, and that flat affect was a symptom of autism. He knew by looking at her tense jaw, her darting eyes, that she was anything but fine. "You flinched." He said, stating the facts like a scientist in an effort not to scare her. 

She seemed to be putting on a brave face when she said "Oh I don't know why that happened. I..." she shook her head, seemingly about to say something before changing her mind. "I'm sorry. It won't happen again. Did you like the English assignment last night?" 

Farkle was confused as to why Smackle apologized for flinching. But it seemed clear to him she didn't want to talk about it, and he respected that. "Well, I have a theory about Holden Caulfield..." And the discussion continued like nothing had happened. 

  


Maya noticed it next. It was during the ski lodge trip. When the girls went to bed. Surprisingly, Maya did not end up rooming with Riley. Instead, she ended up rooming with Smackle. Maya accidentally walked in on Smackle changing, and said "shit!" in shock before immediately slamming the door. Smackle changed after that, but when Maya walked back in, knocking first to see if she was done, it was clear Smackle was panicking. She was rockin back and forth, and blinking quickly, as though she was trying not to cry. Maya, unsure what to do, said" Hey, sorry for walking in on you." 

Smackle didn't accept the apology. She seemed in her own world, muttering "no, just go away, haven't you done enough!" Maya was worried but unsure what to do, so she left for a while to hang out with Zay and Farkle. When she came back, Smackle was her calm self. 

"Can we never discuss what happened tonight ever again?" she asked. Maya was preoccupied with feelings for a certain brown haired girl, and was more than happy to agree. 

  


Farkle noticed more strange things about Smackle. Like how she never talked about her family, and how she sometimes seemed like she wasn't really there. Like she was listening but thinking about something else completely. But she was always nice to him, and, after the drama he witnessed with his friends, he was not in the mood to confront anyone about their emotional problems. If she trusted him, she would tell him what she wanted him to know. 

  


Like everything hard and messed up, the day Smackle has to confront it head on happened in Mr. Matthew's class. They were learning about women's roles throughout history and about the master narrative. Mr. Matthews was asking about signs of women's oppression. And, like most problematic things in Mr. Matthew's class, it was Marly who brought it up. 

"It's obvious that women have been oppressed throughout history. Women were seen as property for like most of time. In some places men could get away with raping their own daughters, and you're saying we need proof women are oppressed?" 

Most of the class seemed shocked by Marly's rage, but it effected Smackle immensely. She had been waving her hand in the air before, wanting to speak, but put it down. Marly's words spun in her head. 

_raping their own daughters... raping... you're my daughter, you're my property, this is how fathers show their love...Isadora, I'm teaching you how to love, Isadora, look me in the eye, Isadora, I'm fixing you... _ ____  
He thought raping her would cure her of her autism. She remembered this now. She wasn't sure how she had ever forgotten it.

Smackle was shaking. She couldn't hear anything but the memories in her head, and she felt arms on her, her father's arms, and she stood up and ran out of the room, unaware of the staring students or shell-shocked teacher. 

Marly was indignant. "What? Can she not handle the truth or something?" 

Mr. Matthews had had enough. "Sit down, Marly. I don't want to hear another word out of you. Now Farkle, do you have any idea where Smackle might run off to in a panic?" 

Farkle wracked his brain before saying "The library, sir. Can I go find her? She seemed freaked out and I wanna help." 

"Yes, but I'm coming with you. Darby, you're in charge until we get back." Darby fist-pumped, clearly excited at an opportunity at leadership. Riley, Maya, and Lucas were all worried about Smackle. 

"Mr. Matthews, do you have any idea- was Smackle-" Farkle didn't want to ask this question, didn't want to think of his girlfriend having suffered so terribly at the hands of a man who was supposed to take care of her, but he felt like he was going to burst if he didn't find out what was going on. 

"All I know is her father is in jail. I don't know, but for her sake, I truly hope not. But based on the way she acted today, I'm-" Mr. Matthews took a deep breath. "I'm inclined to say yes." 

When they found her, Smackle was under the table, knees against her chest in a protective stance. Upon seeing Mr. Matthews, she froze, and then yelled "Don't touch me!" Mr. Matthews backed away, and Farkle crawled under. Smackle backed further into the corner, tensed, breathing fast. It appeared the worst was over, in that she became responsive quickly. When she actually registered exactly who was with her, she said "I didn't want you to see me like this. I wanted you to love me." 

Farkle looked at her, her tear stained cheeks and stimming hands, and knew the truth. "I still love you even when you're scared and can't be touched, Smackle. You're important to me." 

"Farkle, I- My father did something- he-" she slowed her breathing and tried again "he-" she couldn't say the word _rape _ __yet, despite the memories and the body feelings she still had, despite knowing in her bones that was what it was, so she said "he did bad bad things, and I-" she started crying again. "I have Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, which was why I-" deep breath again "I ran off. I was triggered. But I'm okay for now." Suddenly the bell rang, meaning the school day was over. Mr. Matthews left the two in the library, thinking they would wish to be alone.__

"So what does this mean?" Farkle asked, concerned. "Can I help in any way?" 

"Yes, er, well, I don't know. Sometimes I don't want to be hugged, beyond the usual sensory issues piece, so asking before you touch me is nice, although you usually did that anyway. Um, when I have a flashback I usually start clenching my fists and unclenching them, so if you could distract me in any way possible when I do that, it would be appreciated. And please, please don't call me Isadora. He- that was the name he used, and the name they called me in court, and... And to you, I'm Smackle! I'm not that scared victim who let things happen to her" Farkle began to protest but Smackle held out her hand in a stop motion before continuing. "I'm a genius and a friend and your girlfriend. And, if I seem out of it, don't take it personally. I don't want to see him in you- I don't want to be high maintenance, I'm sorry." Smackle felt terrible. She never talked about her PTSD or her father outside of therapy, and now she was dragging her precious, loving boyfriend into this pile of piss. 

Farkle reassured her. "You're not high maintenance. I appreciate you for telling me what you need." 

  


Smackle needed rest after all that had happened that day. The next day though, her friends Riley, Lucas, Zay, and even Maya all wanted to know how she was doing. She told them. "Marly's comments about fathers kind of freaked me out a bit, but I'm fine now." 

Smackle wanted to think about her trauma as little as she possibly could, and, in spite of a small comment from Zay ("A bit freaked out? You looked like she had turned into the antiChrist or something!"), her friends were all nice enough to allow her that. And if Farkle sprinkled her in treats a bit more often and Riley asked before hugging her a bit more often and Mr. Matthews began mentioning when topics that could make people uncomfortable came up in class a bit more often, well, there was nothing wrong with that.

**Author's Note:**

> This is based on my own experiences with PTSD and autism-related abuse, but I have not experienced the same extent or type of abuse Smackle does in the story and if I get anything wrong or offensive, please let me know. Also this is meant to be a one-shot. Sorry.


End file.
